Lost in Time

Chapter 39

The bed was in shambles; the two figures exhausted and thoroughly replete lay among the tattered remains of the linens. From her position sprawled atop Spike, Buffy groaned as her stomach growled. Too tired to get up from her cozy position to stop the growlies.

“Come on, pet. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat,” he told her, moving to set her aside so that he could get up.

“Don’t wanna,” she mumbled sleepily in the crook of his neck. “Later.”

Spike tightened his arms about her as the slayer slipped off to sleep, smirking in satisfaction that he’d managed to wear her out...again. He’d give her an hour then shake her awake; she needed something in her stomach with all the blood he was constantly taking from her. Purring contentedly, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of her slow and steady heartbeat, feeling her chest cavity expand beneath his fingers as she breathed deeply.

The other four vampires had no doubt gone off to the Marquess of Darderwyne’s estate. It had been decided amongst the small group to include the two in the master vampire’s secret. Both Esme and Derrick had proven themselves loyal and discreet – Esme being a close acquaintance with the Marchioness of Atherton and Derrick having a keen mind and a head for business, much like himself.

And, although they still had roughly twenty years left before whatever this thing that the half-breed had mentioned necessitated them “fulfilling their destiny,” it wouldn’t hurt to begin amassing a select few generals to see their plans – whatever they might be – carried out.

An hour later, Spike nudged the slayer awake.

“Time to get up, luv. ‘M sure the others are waiting for us.”

The slayer ignored him, grumbling under her breath sleepily as she burrowed closer to him. The vampire took a moment to bask in her affection before his hand descended on her ass with a loud thwap.

Buffy bolted upright at the sting of his palm, peppering the air with her expletives as she rubbed her offended posterior. She glared at him, her chest heaving at the sudden adrenaline rush – and ire at having been spanked – causing her breasts to bob up and down becomingly.

His playful look turned to one of intent as Spike lifted his hand to caress one of the pale globes. But before he could reach his target, the slayer had vaulted off of him and slipped from the bed – his face betraying his frustration, mouth open in silent objection, as he stared at her retreating back.

‘There’s always later,’ he told himself as he closed his mouth and rose as well. His delicate ears picked up her mutterings – which had him suppressing a chuckle as she grumbled about being spanked like some misbehaving two-year-old – as she stalked towards the dress and undergarments that, amazingly, she’d managed to shed without incident before he could get his hands on her. Spike was set to tell her about his little “love tap” but thought better of it; the conversation would most likely lead to a demonstration then the really would never get out of there. Later.

He got hard just thinking about it, and he eyed his erection with disgust as he reached for his pants. Damn thing seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes.

When she’d gotten all the frilly undergarments on that she could manage without assistance, the slayer grabbed her corset and walked towards Spike.

“I need help,” she grumbled. Neither her maid nor his own manservant entered the master chamber when both were within. And, even if she’d crossed through the connecting door to her own bedroom, her maid wouldn’t have been inside. Buffy had dismissed the girl for the evening since they’d planned on staying over at the Marquess of Darderwyne’s place. Well, that was the plan anyway. All being based on the vampires’ reaction of what she and Spike told them.

Buffy thrust the constricting garment towards him, which he took a little warily. Spike was a pro at pulling (more like ripping) the things off of her. Not the other way around. The slayer had presented him her back, but when she didn’t feel him move behind her so that he could help affix the last piece of her undergarment in place, she turned back around. And rolled her eyes. He was just standing there, holding the thing between thumb and forefinger with something akin to shock.

“Oh for—” she griped. “Gimme that.”

She snatched the corset out of his hands and fixed it around her abdomen. “Now, lace me up already. And, not too tight!”

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in and worked his fingers over the laces until she was strung up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey. So much for listening…

As much as she liked the way the corset made her look, she’d be happy when she no longer had to wear one. Never again would she complain about the underwire-variety bra. Those things had nothing on this contraption! She struggled to draw a deep breath, but like any other time, realized it was a lesson in futility and settled for what amounted to a slight pant to draw necessary air into her lungs.

His hands hadn’t moved from her waist and Buffy struggled not to react to his nearness. If they didn’t get out of this room soon, they never would.

“H-help me with my dress?” she asked softly.

Neither moved for the space of a moment. Then finally, Spike stepped away and walked over to where her red dress lay over the back of a chair, returning quickly and slipping the garment over her head.

The act – him dressing her – seemed to make her breath hitch. The intimacy of the moment not lost on her. It was the first time he’d done this roll reversal. He seemed to be just as affected as she, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders as the red material fell to the floor around her frame.

She felt him lean in to her, brushing her hair to the side so that he could do up the tiny row of buttons along her back. Felt each one as his fingers manipulated the closures, goose bumps rising on her flesh in answer to his nearness, his touch. By the time he’d reached the last one at the nape of her neck, Buffy was a bundle of nerves, her body thrumming with need.

She knew he could smell her. Knew that just the slight tang of her desire was enough to see her back in bed and him thrusting between her parted thighs. Her body tensed as if preparing for it…

Spike closed his eyes and ground his teeth. The heady scent of her arousal was causing his cock to harden almost painfully.

Even though they’d been going at it for the last three hours. It was a constant hunger, being surrounded by her heat. Almost as if burying himself in her tight quim was more important than the blood he consumed to keep the demon alive.

The vampire knew she was more than willing, her body tight…knowing that he was going to throw her over his shoulder and march her back to bed. He struggled with his need. Determined, for once, to be its master.

But he couldn’t resist just a little taste…especially given so blatant an invitation.

He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the distended line that pulsed with her life’s blood. His face shifted, his fangs piercing her flesh until they struck gold. Spike wasn’t able to prevent the possessive growl that erupted from his throat, or the way he tightened his arms around her body to hold her close.

Buffy moaned at the pleasure-pain of his bite, her head falling back against his chest. It was a good thing he had such a good grip on her body, or she would have slumped to the floor in a boneless heap. The feel of his fangs buried in her neck oddly erotic. He didn’t take much, just a taste really. Enough to get her motor kicked into high gear and left running.

Almost as quickly as he started, it was over. His tongue lapping at the fresh marks upon her neck. His lips trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive flesh. If tonight hadn’t been so important, she might have turned around in his arms and shoved him upon the bed. The aggressor for once. Instead, she struggled to regain her equilibrium, pulling away from him to see about putting a brush to her hair. There was no way she was going to be able to style it; she’d have to settle on getting rid of the tangles and letting it fall free down her back.

And since Spike seemed to like it down, she didn’t worry about her lack of a perfectly coiffed hairdo.

~*~*~*~*~

To say they were stunned was an understatement. The redheaded vampiress and the sandy-blond vampire stared from master vampire to slayer and back again before turning their gazes to the other vampires that had instinctively taken up supportive positions behind the two.

“Slayer?”

“Time travel?”

The two spoke at once. Both trying to come to grips with the story they’d just been told.

“So, what are you saying exactly? That the world regresses to the point that vampires become bloodthirsty savages that skulk about in the shadows? No clans that keep their childer in line?” the male vampire asked, incredulous.

“Somethin’ like that, yeah,” Spike replied. “Hell…by the time I’m turned, these houses, such as they are, are non-existent. Vampires practically live underground, coming out at night only to feed. I was the rare exception in being chosen, coddled and trained by my sire, my grandsire…most vamps nowadays are spawned by other, equally weak, fledglings. There is no order, only the kill.”

The vampires seemed to shake their heads at the near extinction of their way of life. A sense of loss for an uncertain future casting a pall over the group.

“Is that what you’re here for, what the slay—Buffy is here for?” Derrick asked.

“We don’t know,” Buffy replied honestly. “All I was told…all we were told, was that we’re here to ‘fulfill our destiny.’ We’re probably going to catch flack for letting you in on our secret, but, I sorta spilled the beans with Renee, and well…” The slayer gestured to the other three males behind Spike.

“What is it you want us to do?” Derrick asked.

“Yes, why tell us?” Esme added.

“Because I don’t know what I’m up against, and I’ve come to…care…about you all. I don’t want to see you get caught in the crossfire when this thing goes down,” Buffy spoke before Spike could. Seven sets of eyes shifted towards her. “What? I’m just saying.”

Esme walked over to her friend – a slayer – and embraced her warmly. “What do you need us to do?”

“Train. Learn. Anything and everything,” Buffy replied.

“And start liquidating some of your assets…discreetly,” Spike added. Derrick caught what the master vampire didn’t say. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t likely to end well. Money would be needed to pave the way for a new life somewhere else once whatever was destined to occur came to pass.

~*~*~*~*~

“Although her given name was Elizabeth, the Duchess of Arundel, soon to become the Marchioness of Chadsworth at her father-in-law’s passing shortly after her wedding, was known amongst the ton as Lady Buffy, until all recorded documents seemed to reflect the nickname,” Giles murmured aloud as he read. “The Lord and Lady were the toast of London and it was said that invitations to the annual ball held at the Marquess’ ancestral home were highly coveted by the lesser nobles. While most marriages amongst the nobility were to increase one’s station and wealth, theirs was a love match. And, even though Lady Thornton never bore the Marquess an heir, he doted on his wife until their unfortunate—”

“What?” Xander questioned anxiously. “Their unfortunate what?”

“Death,” Giles replied quietly. “Some twenty-odd years later.”

“But, that’s not possible!” Willow gasped. “She’s…she’s…” Her voice trailed off.

“What else does it say?” Xander asked.

“That’s it,” the watcher remarked, the book falling carelessly from his hands as the enormity of the situation hit him. Collapsing in one of the chairs and whipping off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“But…that’s not fair!” Willow whined. “She’s good. Surely fate wouldn’t let something like that happen to her.”

“Yeah!” Xander added. “It wasn’t like she was supposed to be there.”

Giles looked over sharply at the dark-haired boy. “What did you say?”

“Uh…she wasn’t supposed to be there?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before…Xander, you’re a genius.”

“I know…wait! What?”

“Ethan. He must have cast some type of spell…invoked Janus before I could crush the statue.”

Willow stood up, excited. “So, if we figure out what spell he cast, we can reverse it?” The redhead danced up and down excitedly at the prospect, that hope of seeing her friend alive again wasn’t lost.

“That is my hope, yes,” the watcher replied.

“I guess this means more research, huh?” Xander griped, but good-naturedly, tempered by the prospect of seeing his friend returned safely to her time.

In the midst of their babbling excitement, Cordelia got up and went to one of the computers that indexed the school’s library books.

“Uh, Cordy, what are you doing?” Xander asked as she moved away.

“Research. What else?”

“I don’t think you’re gonna find spell books in there,” he told her condescendingly.

She looked at him, one delicate brow arching as she looked down her nose at him. “Duh! I’m looking for books on English history. See if I can find out what exactly happened to Buffy…and Spike.”

Giles hadn’t thought of that, and nodded approvingly at the cheerleader as he got up and walked to his office to retrieve even more books, this time on spells of the chaotic, time-traveling nature.

But, there was a pep in his step that hadn’t been there before. He just might be able to have his slayer back in her own time before he had to explain to her mother why her daughter was suddenly missing.

A conversation he could cheerfully do without.

Chapter 40

With a last glance behind her, Buffy stepped up into the waiting carriage. It was time to go back to London.

After letting Derrick and Esme in on their secret, Spike had concluded that they’d spent enough time rusticating – as he liked to put it – out in the country. To get Buffy used to the more rigid structures of society – the vampires seemingly losing their formal manners the moment they were away from humans – he held a few social engagements at the estate; nothing too grandiose, just the crème de la crème of society.

The slayer had accessed her memories, the time she’d been more Elizabeth than Buffy, and was grateful that the grace and poise she’d been gifted with during her amnesiac bout hadn’t left her. When the last carriage had left after the first of several such parties, she’d been beaming with pride at her accomplishments and eager to share…

“Come on, slayer, get your arse in the bloody carriage already,” Spike grumbled from behind her, shaking her from her reverie. She threw a glare over her shoulder, just to let him know what she thought of his griping, then climbed the few steps that would gain her entry into the plush interior of the conveyance.

Buffy had barely managed to get her skirts settled around her when suddenly the vampire had vaulted inside and plopped himself in the space right beside her. For having such a compact physique, he sure managed to take up the majority of the seat. She rolled her eyes at him as she tugged her skirts from where they were trapped beneath his leg, a long-suffering sigh escaping her mouth. Secretly, she was pleased; him sitting next to her afforded herself her own personal pillow. With the long journey ahead, Buffy knew it wouldn’t be long before the gently swaying of the coach would lull her to sleep.

Not even bothering to wait, she leaned against him, smiling inwardly as his arm automatically slipped around her shoulder. A few moments later, they were on their way back to London.

~*~*~*~*~

The carriage rolled to a stop a few hours before sunrise. When Spike climbed down and looked around, it took him a moment to realize that the driver hadn’t stopped before his townhouse, but his father’s. Well, his now.

He turned automatically, helping the slayer alight. They’d stay here for now and after he woke, he’d see about a personnel change. Because there was no way he was going to keep his father’s main servants around, being that they were probably completely unaware of what he was.

The door opened without his prompt and he was shocked to see his own butler, Higgins, at the door. Maybe his staff had taken care of the “problem” for him; he’d have to speak with Higgins or Travis a bit later. Right now, the forthcoming dawn was urging him to sleep – the jolting ride in the carriage hadn’t helped either – so he left the details of seeing to his things to his butler and led Buffy upstairs.

~*~

A fire was going in the hearth and a nightcap was waiting for him, no doubt freshly poured upon word of his arrival…all the comforts he’d come to expect.

There was a brief knock at the door and a moment later, Travis entered.

“Good evening, m’lord. Will you be needing anything?”

Spike looked over at the slayer as she wearily sat down in one of the chairs near the fireplace.

“Something to drink, please?” Buffy asked tiredly.

“I’ll see to it at once, m’lady,” Travis replied. A moment later he was out the door and seeing to his task.

When the door clicked shut behind his valet, Spike walked over to where the goblet of blood sat waiting for him. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he wasn’t one to let fresh blood go to waste. A few quick gulps and he was through, returning the cup to the tray for removal upon his man’s return.

Travis was back a moment later with the slayer’s drink, leaving a tray by her chair before grabbing the one he’d left earlier for his master.

“Will you require anything else, m’lord?”

“No…thank you, Travis,” Spike mumbled distractedly.

“Very good, sir.”

He left as quietly as he came, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.

“Come on, pet. Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured as he stepped in front of her. He reached down and drew her to her feet, turning her back to him so that he could start unbuttoning the numerous fastenings of her gown. She was half asleep and followed his directions blindly, stepping out of the middle of the circle her dress made as it fell to the floor. His fingers tore in to the fastenings of her corset, smirking behind her back as she released her pent up breath. Bloody torture device is what it was. The rest of her undergarment fell away, leaving her bare to his gaze.

Spike swung her up into his arms and placed her on the bed, quickly shedding his own clothes and joining her. As soon as he slid beneath the covers, she was rolling towards him, cuddling close and drifting off to sleep. The ride in the carriage must have worn him out too, because he just wrapped his arms around her and drifted off to sleep as well.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy hesitated before Spike’s study, unsure whether or not she should knock. In the country, she hadn’t bothered, the atmosphere at his ancestral home very relaxed. But here, back in London and subject to the gossiping tongues of the servants, she just wasn’t sure of the exact protocol.

The door opened before she could debate further, and she found her arms roughly grabbed by the vampire to be dragged inside. Then she was thrust against the door, forcing it closed, as he leaned in and kissed her senseless.

She wasn’t quite sure what had set him off, but she was more than happy to engage in some kissage. Buffy dragged air into her lungs when he finally released her mouth to trail kisses along her jaw and neck.

“Taste so good,” he mumbled against her skin.

The slayer whimpered helplessly in his arms, her traitorous body reacting to him like she hadn’t spent several hours this morning doing this very thing. She guessed he was making up for last night.

“Uh…Spike?” She tried to get his attention after another toe-curling kiss. “William? Spike!”

Buffy was panting heavily by now, and the half-lidded gaze he directed her way…

‘Focus, Buffy!’

“Renee…luncheon…remember?” It wasn’t much in the way of coherency but it was a start.

“Cancel,” he coaxed, nibbling on her ear for a minute. “Send a note ‘round that you’re not feeling well. I’ll ditch the paperwork and we can go back to bed.”

So tempting.

When he began teasing the marks on her neck, she was just about ready to give in.

“Carriage!” she gasped out, suddenly remembering.

“How long?”

“Maybe…mmmmmm…” She moaned, she couldn’t help it. He was grinding his erection against her cleft. Rather than push him away, she hauled him closer. “…ten minutes…”

Ten minutes was plenty of time.

~*~*~*~*~

“Have fun, pet,” he called out cheerfully as she walked down the hallway towards the front door.

The look Buffy gave him should have withered him on the spot, but only made him chuckle out loud. Perverse vampire could have probably brought her off in half the time, but did he? No! As it was, Renee was going to know exactly what had made her late. And when the two of them were alone, she was sure to be subject to her friend’s teasing.

He was so going to get it when she got home.

~*~*~*~*~

“The Marquess of Brummidge, m’lady,” Renee’s butler announced as he entered the sitting room. The women had finished their meal and were engaging in some after-lunch banter.

“Show him in, Fitzhugh.”

Celeste Devlin looked up as her brother, Marcus, was announced. Though she was engaged to be married, for some reason, he saw fit to escort her about whenever her fiancé wasn’t with her and had dropped her off at the Marchioness’ place earlier with instructions that he’d return late this afternoon. Why he was here so soon was something of a mystery to the girl.

Seated beside her friend Celeste, Buffy, too, looked towards the entry as the heir to the Duke of Rutherford walked inside. She remembered the first time she’d met him, how his eyes had swept over her body in an entirely too forward glance – how her inner “Elizabeth” had been grateful that she’d already “belonged” to another.

Now, as she took in his appearance, the dark, nearly black hair that was slightly longer than current fashion, damp from the recent rain that had descended upon the city; his equally dark, thick brows that drew together as his eyes swept over the room of ladies present…the slayer could only thank the stars once again that she belonged to Spike. His stare, as his gaze finally locked with hers, was no less intense now. The color of his eyes so dark they appeared almost black. Only, there was no “I-want-to-eat-you-up-the-first-chance-I-get” to his gaze; instead, he looked upon her with the respect befitting her station – the mated wife of a master vampire of the Aurelius line.

Buffy thought she saw regret flicker behind his eyes before he managed to tear his gaze away from her to walk over to greet Renee, murmuring acknowledgements to various ladies along the way.

“Lady Atherton, so good to see you again. My business concluded early and, since I was due to pick up Celeste in an hour or so, I decided to just wait out my time here…if that’s all right with you,” he greeted as he bent over her hand and brushed a soft kiss against the cool flesh. Then for her ears alone he added, “I need to speak with Lady Thornton… alone.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay, m’lord. I just hope we don’t bore you to tears with talk of balls and such. Mayhap you’d like to while away the time in my study? Over a good brandy?”

“You’re a true gem, Renee,” he murmured aloud as he relinquished his grip and stood. “I’ll see myself out.”

Polite goodbyes rang out from the assembled ladies as he made his way to the door.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy made her way cautiously down towards Renee’s study. Her nervousness knew no bounds as she drew closer to the room that the male vampire was waiting within. The vampiress hadn’t said what he’d wanted, only that he needed to speak with her alone. Her first thought was that something had happened to Spike, before she dismissed it out of hand. Surely she would have known if anything were to have happened to him. Hadn’t he said that she was tied to him now?

So, if not Spike, then who?

She opened the door and quickly slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed him across the room.

The look was back. Regret…mixed with reluctance. As if he didn’t wanted to share whatever it was that he was about to tell her.

“Lady Thornton…please…sit,” he greeted, gesturing to one of the chaise lounges. “Would you like a drink?”

“No…I don’t…that is…I wouldn’t want to be caught alone—”

Marcus smiled. A true smile that lit up his dark eyes and hinted at the mischievous boy he no doubt once was. Buffy smiled in return, feeling more comfortable without his penetrating stare directed her way.

“Don’t worry.” He tapped his ear. “I’d hear them. And, well, let’s just say that that…” He inclined his head towards the door she’d just entered. “…isn’t the only way out of here.”

“Renee…the Marchioness said you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes. Only—”

The vampire hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter.

“Only?” Buffy drew the word out, hoping he’d continue.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth—”

“Buffy,” she responded automatically.

“Buffy?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, Buffy. My friends call me Buffy.”

“Friend? I…I’d like that…Buffy.”

The two shared another smile before the Marquess’ expression grew grim.

“I’m sorry, Buffy…there’s just no real easy way to say this. And, I’m only telling you because I was aware how close you two were…and being as I was the one that found her coach—”

Marcus was ready to stake himself. He was rambling like some lovesick youth in his first crush. But, what he needed to tell her was important. Only, he knew what was going to happen afterward, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with the weeping woman he’d soon have on his hands. Maybe he should have just told the Marchioness and let the vampiress tell the girl. Word was that the two were very close, that the Marchioness had spent much of her time the last two years in the company of the girl seated before him.

Ah, hindsight.

There was no help for it.

“I…the reason I’m here so early, is that my business was delayed. As I was on my way out of London, I happened upon Mrs. Rothworth’s coach. She was apparently on her way into town. There’d been signs of a struggle, her faithful coachman had been shot, was slowly bleeding to death, and my own driver couldn’t do anything to save him. I’m sorry, Buffy…but, she’s dust.”

The slayer stared at the vampire in shock.

Her chaperone, former chaperone, was gone.

“I’ve got runner out,” the vampire was saying. “We’ve got to head them off…before they have a chance to talk. They’ll no doubt hole up somewhere safe until nightfall, when the need to spend their bounty will overtake their common sense and they slink off to the seaside taverns.”

Buffy hadn’t moved. Was just staring at the vampire as he continued to speak.

“I was hoping you might know where your husband is currently, so that I don’t have to waste valuable time tracking him down.”

“Home,” she murmured.

“He’s at home?” he asked.

“I need to go home,” she told him, her voice that of a small child.

“Certainly. I’ll take you there at once. Let me just retrieve Celeste.”

He waited a moment for her to nod. To show some sign that she’d heard him. After a minute, in which she just sat there unmoving, he quickly excused himself to get his sister. The Marquess didn’t elaborate, just asked Celeste to make her goodbyes and that Lady Thornton wasn’t feeling well and he’d be seeing her home. Renee gave him a hard stare to which he just gave a slight shake of his head. He’d tell her later tonight.

Once the two women were settled inside the carriage and out of the rain, he climbed up, yelling for his driver to make haste to the Marquess of Chadsworth’s residence. He had barely shut the door and settled in his seat when the driver cracked his whip, the conveyance jolting slightly as the horses lunged into motion.

tbc...

Chapter 41

It took everything in him to stay home when he felt her.

Pain.

His slayer was in pain and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it at the moment.

He wanted to leave. To rush out of his house and find her. Kill whatever it was that had dared to hurt her. To take her in his arms and ease the ache that had seemed to settle over her heart.

But he stayed where he was and waited for her to come to him.

And, he knew she would. Was no doubt on her way home right this very moment.

Which was why he wouldn’t leave.

He didn’t want to chance missing her.

~*~*~*~*~

Marcus was nervous.

As the heir to the Duke of Rutherford, his place in life was secure. His title commanded the respect - and fear - of the ton. His entrance into whatever function polite society decided to hold guaranteed. But, as a fledge, barely a decade in years?

Not so much the sure thing.

He’d barely been introduced to the Lady Thornton’s husband, the current Marquess of Chadsworth, even though both men shared common friends in the Marquess of Darderwyne and Eaglethorpe, and the Earl of Hawkingstone. All three had had nothing but good things to say about the master vampire, all enjoying the Marquess’ quick wit and business acumen…and his skill on the hunt.

Which, truth be told, really didn’t tell him much.

Like, how the master vampire was going to react as he returned his wife to his side… upset and near tears.

Then it was too late. The carriage had screeched to a halt outside the vampire’s home, leaving Marcus no choice but to open the door and hurry Buffy inside.

He was drenched almost immediately, the rain having kicked up on their drive in, almost like it sensed the emotions of the woman he was assisting and had unleashed its fury to complement her pain. Marcus shrugged out of his coat, holding it over the Marchioness’ head in an attempt to spare her the brunt of the storm. When she was on the ground, he quickly shut the carriage door and shouted at his driver to see his sister home with all possible haste. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to follow.

As he attempted to hurry his friend up the walk, the front door opened, and he caught sight of the master vampire.

To say that his demon cringed in fear would be a gross understatement.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike had taken to pacing the foyer in the moments before the slayer arrived, having displaced his man from his duties, so that when the carriage outside rolled to a stop, he was right there to greet her.

His eyes made note of the Ducal crest, the dark-haired vampire that stepped down and assisted the slayer, and he filed that bit of information away to look at later.

Right now, nothing else mattered but Buffy.

The little girl lost look she’d been sporting seemed to dissipate as she neared the door. As if sensing his presence, she lifted her head and took note of his standing in the doorway. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, breaking into a run and away from the protective covering the vampire’s coat had provided. Her tears mingling with the rain as she threw herself at him.

She was sobbing uncontrollably now. Whatever it was that had been hurting her finally overtaking her as she was swept up in the comforting embrace of her husband. Barely a moment later, he’d picked her up, carrying her close to his chest as he strode off towards his study.

“Follow me,” he barked out to the vampire.

~*~*~*~*~

Meekness wasn’t in his character, but the harsh command couldn’t be denied. He closed the front door and set out after the master vampire.

He was not looking forward to this confrontation at all.

As his booted feet rang out on the floor, Marcus took note of the lack of servants milling about.

‘No doubt scared off by the Marquess’ behavior.’

Still, looking at the two, how he held his wife close as if to take away her pain…it was easy to see that he cared for her. Perhaps even loved her.

Which made him release an unnecessary breath.

If the vampire was in love with his wife, then there was a chance he was angry on her behalf, and not at him. And, that he might actually listen to his story versus attacking him out of hand with a stake.

Marcus saw the room he was being led towards and noticed that the door was shut. In a few quick strides, he was ahead of the pair and opening the door. The vampire barely paid him any notice, his attention solely on the petite woman held in his arms. He watched avidly as the Marquess settled himself in one of the chairs before the fire and held Buffy while she cried. The master vampire didn’t say anything, but when the soothing rumbling started emanating from his chest, Marcus felt like an interloper.

It was a private thing, that. Something usually reserved during an intimate moment between mated vampires. Not knowing what to do, Marcus crossed to the extensive bar along the wall of the study and poured himself a stiff drink. He knocked the shot back quickly and then poured another. This he sipped slowly as he waited for Buffy’s tears to lessen.

The room was silent save for the light rumbling noise of the master vampire and the tears of the human he held. When they finally lessened, Marcus finished off his second drink then poured one in a fresh glass for her.

Spike took the outstretched glass, flashing a grateful look to the vampire.

“Here, luv, drink this,” he told her softly.

Buffy took it automatically, drinking the contents down quickly, in too much shock to protest that she wasn‘t thirsty. The fiery path of the liquor burned a trail down her throat, and she coughed a bit. The warmth that seemed to pool in her stomach was a welcome respite from the cold that had encased her heart upon hearing of her former chaperone’s dusting.

Just the thought brought a fresh wave of tears. Already limp with her crying fit, she didn’t think she could handle being rung dry with another sobfest. She curled into Spike once more as the tears began to fall anew.

Spike couldn’t take it. Her tears were affecting him worse than any torture Dru - or Angelus, for that matter - had ever devised.

His lips found his mark, nuzzling at the flesh to get her to still - which she did. Almost immediately.

“Spike,” she mumbled softly, completely forgetting about their audience. Her eyes grew heavy, and eventually she slept, lulled by the vampire‘s actions.

Spike held her for a few minutes more before reluctantly rising to his feet to place her on a nearby chaise. He didn’t stop to question his desire to keep her close. She was his; it was his demon’s instinct to see to the care of all that belonged to him. The slayer was hurting, and it was his job to make it right, to ease the ache that even in sleep, he could still feel. He covered her with a throw then turned and pinned the other vampire with a glacier stare.

“What the hell happened?”

~*~*~*~*~

Marcus barely managed to suppress his demon’s instinct to visibly cower before the barely leashed rage in the master vampire’s stance. Just barely. As it was, he stumbled over his explanation like some child called on the carpet.

“It’s her chaperone, Mrs. Rothworth. I happened upon her carriage on my way out of town for the afternoon to see to business. I…she was dust. Set upon by robbers and seemingly drug from her carriage before the sun was masked by the rain.”

“And the robbers?” Spike growled.

“Run off. No doubt having trouble believing what they saw. Although, the money they stole will be burning a hole in their pockets before long. I’m sure come nightfall they’ll crawl out from whatever hole they’ve hidden in to drink themselves into a stupor and share their tale,” Marcus replied.

“We’ll have to find them before that happens.”

“I’ve already seen to it. I’ve got my men in every bar along the waterfront.”

“Good.”

The two lapsed into silence for a moment, both looking forward to the evening but for entirely different reasons. One wanted revenge for the killing of one of their own. The other just wanted revenge against those that had dared to hurt his slayer.

“…had business to attend?” Spike questioned after a time.

“What? I’m sorry?” Marcus tore his gaze from the sleeping human to see the angry amber of the master vampire staring at him.

“’M sorry. I meant no disrespect. I…It’s strange. I…worry about her. That‘s never happened to me before.”

Spike didn’t say anything to the vampire’s confession, but his look lost that harsh edge. Instead, he sat back in his chair behind his desk and regarded the dark-haired Marquess.

“Anyway…I was on my way to see the Duke of Abberly. Vamp’s a whiz with money, much like yourself, and he wanted to show me something.”

“Did he say what?”

“No. Only that it involved a few of the clan Aurelius. Said he saw a pattern and wanted my opinion before bringing the matter to you.”

‘Bloody hell.’

“I’ll send round a note for him to see me directly. I believe I know what it was he wanted to share.” At the younger vamp’s questioning look, Spike added, “I’ll tell you later. I‘ve a few things to see to first.”

Spike jotted off a quick note on paper reserved for clan communications. Folding it over, he stuck it in an envelope and affixed his seal. His butler, Higgins, seemed to materialize out of thin air to take the missive, nodding at his master’s instructions to see it delivered post haste to the Duke of Abberly.

The servant left as quietly as he entered and passed off the communiqué to Travis, since the butler’s duties required him to stay close at hand.

Higgins returned not ten minutes later.

“Excuse me, m’lord. I’ve a man in the kitchens claiming to be the Marquess’ man.”

“Send him in.”

“Very good, sir.”

The man bowed out of the room and was back a moment later with another in tow. Tall and lanky, his unkempt hair hid half his facial features. His clothes smelled like they’d not been changed in over a month.

“M’lords…” He gave both a stiff bow, both his manner and the cultured tones of his voice revealing that the man was in disguise. “They’ve been found.”

“Where?” This from Spike.

“At a place called The Watering Hole,” the servant replied.

“Who’s there now?” Marcus asked his man.

“Your driver, Jimmy, and his nephew. They’d just bought the four men a round of drinks when I left to rush here.”

“Good. That’ll give us plenty of time.”

Spike was already rising to his feet and making his way towards the door.

“Should we inform the others?” Marcus asked, two steps behind.

“No.”

Marcus grinned. More fun for them.

“Good work, Lawrence. We’ll take it from here.”

“Very good, m’lord. I’ll await you at home.”

As the two vampires strode out the front door and into the night, the servant left by the way he’d come.

Chapter 42

Spike and Marcus paused outside The Watering Hole, listening intently as the sound of raucous laughter drifted back to them. The two shared a look, each of the same mind. Soon it would be them laughing as their demons exacted retribution on those that had killed one of their own.

They were definitely overdressed for this crowd, but it shouldn’t matter. Noblemen – usually lesser sons – often went slumming, as if to prove to themselves and others that they didn’t need fathers’ titles to see them through. A bit of drunken revelry overlooked by the more territorial commoners. And, if not, a little fisticuffs would usually settle the matter.

Thus, the two vampires brazenly pushed through the swinging doors, eyes taking a quick sweep of the room before dismissing its occupants out of hand. Noticing a vacant table near the back, Spike took the lead and wended his way through the tables, Marcus following behind.

They’d barely seated themselves before a barmaid arrived. Her frizzy red hair hid much of her face, the brown non-descript dress hung off her frame like the garment had belonged to another. Spike stared at the girl. She couldn’t have been much older than the slayer. Was probably younger in fact. But, the eyes seemed wise beyond their years – no doubt witness to atrocities one such as herself should not have been made to see. She flinched under his stare, but found her voice and asked them for their order.

Both stared up at her in shock as the soft, melodious tone drifted down to them, the tavern’s noises in no way hiding the cultured tone.

“Pitcher of ale. The good stuff, not the watered down swill the barkeep serves the others,” Spike told her.

Angelina attempted a half curtsy and hurried away, and Spike found himself staring after the girl’s back as she moved between tables, her body barely flinching as she was groped by several of the patrons in her path.

“What is it?” Marcus asked confused, worried that he’d missed something about the female.

The elder vamp turned back to his companion. “Nothing…” They drifted back to the girl. “Nothing…”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes…” He wasn’t looking at Marcus, his eyes still fixed on the girl.

Marcus turned in the direction of the other vampire’s gaze. “We could take her with us. She’s kinda on the slim side, so I doubt she’s got family. Probably one of Lulu’s girls.”

“Hmmm…”

Spike finally turned away from the girl and leaned back against the booth. His mind debating as to whether or not he’d take the girl. Why he was even contemplating it was anyone’s guess. But, he’d long since given up trying to understand this softening nature he’d been exhibiting lately. Yet, if it would take the slayer’s mind off her sorrow…

“We’ll take her with us,” Spike decided. “My wife is going to need some project to occupy her time so she doesn’t dwell on Mrs. Rothworth’s death. Think the li’l maid there should keep her plenty busy.”

“It’ll be as you say.”

Marcus stood up and headed towards the bar. After a brief conversation with the owner, he plopped a few coins on the wet surface and gestured to the redheaded girl. The greedy man’s hands closed around the money, nodding vigorously, and Marcus barely managed to suppress a snort. If Lord Thornton hadn’t taken the girl out of there, he damn well would have. She reminded him in a way of his sister, though he was far from having sisterly thoughts.

“I just bought her services for the evening. When she brings us our drinks, she’s ours,” he told the master vampire as he slid back in his chair.

“Good.” His gaze flicked over the four men and the two vampires they were entertaining in the opposite corner. Even from where he sat, Spike could see that it was going to be a while yet before they’d be drunk enough to spill their secrets. Right now, their faces still bore that wide-eyed fear, as if they were having trouble believing what they’d seen.

So, wait he would. If it was one thing he’d learned while being stuck in the past, it was patience.

The barmaid returned a moment later with their drinks, her eyes duller than before, having apparently been told of their buying her services for the evening.

“What’s your name, girl,” Spike asked as she set their glasses down on the table.

“Gina, m’lord,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

“He asked you for your name,” Marcus practically growled. He ignored the smirk from the other vampire, almost smiling in delight when she lifted her gaze to glare at him. ‘Good. Her spirit’s not been broken.’

“Your name,” he added when she was back to staring at him with her blank stare.

“Angelina. Angelina St. James.”

Spike rolled his eyes. Figured.

“And tell me Angelina St. James…what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“A girl like me?”

“Yes.” Lightning quick, his hand closed around her wrist and dragged it in front of his face for inspection, flipping it forward and back for a thorough look.

“Delicate hands, even if they are a little worse for wear right now.” His dark eyes roamed over her body from head to toe, his nose crinkling in distaste. “Classically beautiful features, if you were able to see them for all that hair on your head. Slim body that god awful dress does nothing to enhance…”

Angelina ripped her hand out of his grasp, and something told her that if she’d not caught him unaware, she never would have been let go. Her eyes narrowed to near slits, a bit of the backbone she’d once possessed returning – before tragedy had struck her family, leaving her an orphan with no means of support, stripping away every last scrap of pride she’d had left. “You’ve bought my ‘services,’ m’lord, not my life’s history.”

Marcus tipped his head back and roared with laughter, causing a few of the patrons closer to their table to look over.

“Well said, Gina.” He sneered the mockery she’d made of her name. “But, I’m not the one that, as you say, ‘bought’ you. He did.” Marcus nodded with his head towards his companion, and he watched as her face paled.

Spike was having second thoughts of sending the girl to his home, now that he’d seen the other vampire’s interest. But, in the end, he decided against gifting the girl to Marcus. A little time to regain her strength – and her pride – would be in order before he’d let the vampire near her.

“Marcus, hail the girl a hack and see it delivers her to my home. Mrs. Cremshaw will know what to do with her. Make sure a bath is at the top of her list.”

At the girl’s gasp, he turned his gaze towards her, his look freezing her in place.

“I fully expect you to be there on my return. It’s not your services I’ve bought so much as I’ve taken you out of this hellhole and given you a place to live. As such, I expect you to obey my wife in all things. Is that understood?”

Angelina stared down at the nobleman as if he were the answer to all her prayers. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this, but she’d not waste the opportunity. Quickly bobbing a curtsy, she left the table and moved towards the exit, grateful to be leaving this place behind for the last time. Though she was rather surprised that not one hand touched her on the way out the door, most of the tavern’s customers not usually slow to let an opportunity pass.

She didn’t see the look Marcus gave each and every male in the room. Trailing behind her like an avenging angel just waiting for the one that dared.

~*~*~*~*~

“It’s time,” Spike whispered a few hours later.

Marcus nodded and they both stood. His eyes locked with those of his men, giving the pair a signal.

As the two vampires exited the tavern, Jimmy gestured to his nephew. A natural-born storyteller, Michael convinced the four thieves to leave the bar with him, promising more drinks and plenty of women to see the night through. Jimmy mentally shook his head as he brought up the rear.

“Right around this corner, we’ll take a shortcut,” Michael told them.

Behind him, the four weaved drunkenly, practically stumbling over their boots as the mass quantities of alcohol they’d consumed affected their coordination.

“Blimy, can’ see a bloody thing out ‘ere,” one complained.

“Ya sure this is the right way,” slurred another.

“Of course. Don’t tell me you guys can’t hold yer liquor,” Michael taunted.

“’ll ‘ave ya know I was swillin’ ale when you were still in nappies,” a third growled, taking a menacing step towards the youth.

“Good evening, m’lords,” Jimmy’s voice rang out.

“Wha? Who’s there?” the man that had snapped at the boy said. He swiveled around and squinted his eyes to see deeper into the alley that led behind the tavern and further into town. He nearly pissed his pants when the two figures drew near, their yellow eyes pinning him in place.

The four tried to escape, but were cut off by Jimmy and Michael, and Spike and Marcus made quick work of knocking them unconscious.

“I’ll be but a moment, m’lord,” Jimmy told his master. “I’ve the unmarked carriage around the way.”

He hurried off down the street, quickly thanking the driver of a fellow nobleman for keeping an eye on his property before settling himself atop the conveyance and cracking his whip to get the horses moving. Circling the block, he drew the team to a halt at the opposite end of the alley. As the vampires walked towards him, Jimmy climbed down and opened the secret compartment in the back of the carriage, allowing the men to be dumped inside. Tiny holes were drilled into the floorboard so that the humans wouldn’t die from lack of oxygen before they’d reached their destination.

Once all four men were secured, Spike and Marcus climbed inside while Jimmy and Michael returned to their perch on top. A whip sounded and the carriage started moving, Jimmy already knowing their destination.

~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the back entrance to Whitt’s. The doors seemed to open before they’d stopped and a small group of minions descended on the carriage and quickly carted the four humans inside and down several flights of stairs to the secret dungeons housed below.

Marcus stepped down and made to go inside. When he didn’t hear the elder vamp follow, he turned around with a question upon his face.

“Keep ‘em alive till I return. Let them wallow in their fear for a bit.”

He didn’t question the master vampire’s command, or why he wasn’t coming inside with him. Now that the four had been captured and were tucked inside the Aurelius stronghold, they’d ceased being a liability.

“Oh, and if either Lords Northcutt, Fielding, or Percival are inside, send them to me at once. Same goes for Alric Townsend.”

Marcus didn’t let his confusion show, just nodded.

“Have them bring you with them.”

The Marquess affected a slight bow in deference, then turned to his man and instructed him to see Lord Thornton home. As he slipped inside, he couldn’t help wondering what, exactly, the master vampire could want with the others. He shoved that thought aside and hurried down the stairs to see to the humans. His demon wanted blood in retribution, but he forced it down.

Later.

After instructing the minions, he went upstairs, his gaze sweeping over the rooms before settling on the Marquess of Eaglethorpe and the Earl of Hawkingstone playing cards with a few other human nobles. He made eye contact with the two, gesturing with his head his need to speak privately. Marcus watched as they made their excuses, rising to their feet and taking their stack of chips.

“What is it?” Joseph Maitland whispered as they drew near.

“Lord Thornton needs to speak with Byron right away. Do you know if Derrick, Clayton, or Alric are about?”

“Not that I’m aware,” the Marquess answered. “Come on, it must be important if William wants all of us,” he told Byron.

“But…he didn’t ask for you,” Marcus managed to stammer out.

“If it’s what I think it’s about, he’ll want me there. Now, let’s go,” he told the younger vamp.

The three left the club, all of them climbing into the Earl of Hawkingstone’s carriage to see them to the master vampire’s townhouse.

Knowing that the news of Mrs. Rothworth’s death had no doubt reached their ears, Marcus filled them in on the humans’ capture and Lord Thornton’s order to hold their execution.

“William probably wants to see what Buffy’s going to want to do,” Joseph commented in an aside to Byron.

Marcus didn’t respond, but his mind was racing. The familiarity they seemed to have with the Marchioness confused him. He felt like he was on the outside looking in right now – it not being a place he usually held. As one of the higher-ranking noblemen, he usually was aware of all the goings on within the clan, even though he was still just a fledge.

It rankled. But, he tamped down his irritation and forced himself to wait. Whatever it was, he was sure to hear about it in due time, especially given that the Marquess had wanted him to come along.

~*~*~*~*~

Upon entering his study, Spike was surprised to see the slayer and another vampire sitting with their heads together at the small table. Papers were strewn haphazardly across the table covering every inch of space. The vampire, no doubt the infamous Duke of Abberly, held a piece of paper in his hand, pointing to some drawing he’d sketched.

They looked up as the study door closed behind him, Buffy jumping to her feet and rushing to his side. His arms closed around her as she threw herself against his chest.

“There you are! When I woke you were gone and I wasn’t sure…” She lifted her head and Spike could see traces of the pain she tried so hard to mask. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and changed the subject.

“Did Angelina find her way here alright?”

It did the trick, her heartache faded in place of her rage on the girl’s behalf.

“I should say so! Poor girl, forced to sell herself to provide a roof over her head. I’ve settled her in the guest room at the end of the hall.”

“The guest wing. Um, pet? You do realize…”

Buffy quirked her brow, daring him to finish that thought.

“Fine…do whatever you like. ‘S not like I have any say so in the matter anyway,” he grumbled. He released the slayer and stepped back. “Going to introduce me to our guest, luv?”

“Oh, yes…” She blushed a becoming shade of red at her thoughtlessness. “Sorry about that.”

The two walked over to the table where the Duke stood waiting for an introduction.

“William, may I introduce, His Grace, the Duke of Abberly. Your Grace, my husband William, Marquess of Chadsworth.” The two men exchanged formal greetings as Buffy continued, “His Grace was telling me about these interesting patterns he’s noticed among a few members of the clan.”

“So I hear,” Spike murmured. At the Duke’s inquiring look, he elaborated. “The Marquess of Brummidge stopped round earlier. Apparently, he was on his way to see you when he happened upon Mrs. Rothworth’s carriage. I’ve actually just returned from securing the perpetrators at Whitt’s. They’ll be dealt with on the morrow.”

Buffy wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. True, they’d robbed her former chaperone and forced her into the sunlight, thereby killing her instantly. But could she just stand by while Spike and the others exacted revenge? It wasn’t a question she was prepared to answer right now, because right now, she’d answer with an unequivocal yes.

Kill them all and to hell with right and wrong.

And then what would that make her?

The door opened a moment later and Higgins, their butler, stepped inside to announce the Marchioness of Haversham’s arrival. Buffy had stood before the servant even finished his proclamation, and after a quick glance at Spike, in which he gave a short nod, she excused herself and darted out of the room as fast as decorously possible.

In the front sitting room, the door had barely closed behind her and Buffy was hurling herself into her friend’s arms, sobbing pitifully on her shoulder.

“Buffy! Oh, honey, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here before now,” Renee soothed as she guided them to one of the two decorative couches. Buffy lifted her head from the vampiress’ shoulder and Renee took the opportunity to soothe the girl’s hair out of her face. “Is there any news?”

“S-Spike…he found them. Says he’s got them locked up at Whitt’s.”

“Good.” Renee’s voice had turned hard, so unlike her usual demeanor. Mrs. Rothworth had been a good friend, had helped her through the dark period in her life after Jared was gone.

“I…I don’t know if I can let this happen. Let them just be killed…”

Renee stood, the natural amber of her eyes darkening slightly as her demonic features burst forth as she whirled around to stare at her friend.

“Would you see them let go? Unpunished for their crime against one of us?”

“I—”

“You live in our world now, Buffy. Stop seeing things in black and white. Those men will pay. And all of us, Spike included, will gain satisfaction in seeing them dead.” Her sudden burst of anger gone, the ridges above her brow faded, her eyes once more returning to their softer yellow. “The slayer doesn’t exist here. She’s not needed. We know how to maintain the balance.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“We don’t kill indiscriminately, Buffy. You know that.”

The slayer nodded. “It just goes against everything I’ve believed in. Everything I’ve been trained—”

“Trained being the key word here. What if it had been me? Or Spike?” She smiled when she saw her friend’s eyes darken perceptively. She resumed her seat by her friend’s side, taking the girl’s hands in her own. “You see? That’s the way we feel. How all of us feel at losing one of our own.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“Only from where you’re standing.”

Chapter 43

Buffy was spared commenting as a knock at the front door sounded and the voices of Lord Fielding and Lord Devlin – the vampire that had seen her home earlier – reached her ears. If Byron was here, it could only mean that Spike was contemplating expanding their circle to include a few more vamps. She hurried to the door and opened it in time to see the two vampires, as well as Lord Maitland, being led past by Higgins, the butler.

“Something’s happening,” she told Renee as she ducked back inside the room. “Come on.”

The two women hurried down the hall that led towards Spike’s study. Not bothering to knock, Buffy let herself in. Spike was standing behind his desk; the Duke of Abberly and the Marquess of Brummidge were seated in the two chairs in front of his desk, leaving the Marquess of Eaglethorpe and the Earl of Hawkinstone standing in strategic places about the room. Buffy went immediately to her husband’s side – they’d have to go through her to get to him – and had Renee take up position in front of the door, thus blocking the exit. The seated vampires looked askance at hers and Renee’s presence, but didn’t dare object to their being there. If the master vampire had wanted them gone, they wouldn’t have been in the room.

Marcus watched as the Lord Thornton seemed to carry on a silent conversation with the other vampires standing about the room, and only just realized that both he and the Duke had been effectively boxed in. His demon tensed in preparation of attack, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Beside him, the Duke laid a reassuring hand on the younger vamp’s forearm.

“Patterns,” he murmured quietly. Then, he settled back to wait.

It wasn’t long either, Spike having received the nod of approval from the three vampires stationed in a circle around the two. Even with their okay, he still felt the slayer stiffen beside him as he began to speak. Relaying the same story he’d once told the other vamps. Halfway through his tale, he noticed the Duke nodding as if his suspicions had been confirmed. When he got to the part about time travel and that his wife was a slayer, he took in their shocked expressions, his coiled body relaxing slightly when neither made a move to attack.

“Who else knows,” Marcus asked abruptly.

“The Marquess and Marchioness of Darderwyne and the Viscount Sotheby,” Adam Kingston, the Duke of Abberly, replied, beating the Marquess to his answer. At the master vampire’s surprised look, he added, “Patterns. They’re good, but I’m better.”

“Then maybe you should see to the monetary arrangements,” Spike commented. “Oh, and you forgot Alric Townsend.”

“Ah, yes, the youngest son of the Viscount Waverly,” Adam commented. “He’d be a little harder to deduce given his untitled status. But, the more that I think on it now, I do see how he could be a part of this.”

“So, you’ll help us?” Buffy interjected.

“Of course,” Marcus replied immediately.

“Even knowing what’s going to happen? That this…whatever it is…isn’t going to end pretty?”

“Buffy, you should know by now…our clan…it sticks together,” the fledgling told her.

The slayer risked a glance at her friend and noticed the smug look on her features. Surprisingly, it was Spike that contradicted the vamp’s words.

“May be true in this case, mate. But, ‘m reckonin’ that whatever happens to change the future, as you guys know it, is caused by an internal power struggle.”

“‘S the only thing that makes sense,” he added upon seeing several of the vampires’ aghast looks. “Look. It’s late, and the sun’ll be up in about an hour. Adam, I’m putting you in charge of our monetary assets. Coordinate with the others. Byron, Joseph…you’ll let the others know?”

The two vampires nodded.

“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow evening at Whitt’s.”

Buffy stiffened at Spike’s words, but didn’t comment. The death of the humans was a foregone conclusion and something she was going to have to force herself to accept – although, she didn’t think she was up to witnessing the event just yet.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy lay still until she was sure that Spike wouldn’t waken before easing out of his arms and sliding out of bed. Grabbing her robe from where it had been carelessly thrown earlier, she slipped it on and padded on bare feet to the connecting doors leading to her room. After a last glance at her husband, she slipped through the door, squinting momentarily as her eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight pouring into her room.

She didn’t bother with calling her maid, not wanting to wake the girl just because she’d been unable to sleep. Instead, Buffy rummaged through her wardrobe until she found a dress that she could fasten herself and that didn’t require the boa-constricting corset she normally wore. A few quick brushes through her hair afterwards, and she let herself out of her room.

The hallway upstairs was deserted, but she could hear activity below – most likely the downstairs maids cleaning and dusting. Not wanting to be seen, she took the seldom-used servant’s stairs that led to the kitchens.

Mrs. Wadsworth was seated at a table as she prepared the day’s meals and gave her a wave as Buffy let herself out into the gardens. The bright sky was in direct contrast to her mood; it should have been raining…or at the very least, overcast.

She was tired and cranky – not to mention confused…and she knew it. Knew exactly what it was that was causing her mood.

And why she couldn’t sleep.

Buffy just didn’t know what was expected of her. And it was those tumultuous thoughts that had kept her awake, long after Spike had succumbed to slumber. Why she was out here hoping the soothing atmosphere of the gardens would make things more clear.

An hour later, and she was still no closer to settling things in her mind, and let herself back inside.

Seeing the look on her mistress’ face, the cook dismissed the others in the room, sending them on false errands so that they could have some privacy.

“I need to go to Whitt’s,” Buffy announced. “Right now.”

Mrs. Wadsworth nodded. “I’ll have Higgins see to it immediately. Would you like something to eat while you wait?”

“No…I…maybe some tea?”

“I’ll heat up the water.”

Twenty minutes later, Buffy was tucked inside an unmarked carriage, Spike’s own valet at the reins. She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to go to the Aurelius stronghold. Or if she could even gain entry.

Then it was too late for self-doubts, or what-ifs, or any of the other things that made her want to turn tail and run instead of dealing with the situation, because the carriage pulled to a halt. A moment later, her door opened and Buffy leaned her head out to see that they’d stopped before a second, more private, entrance.

She allowed herself to be helped down from the coach, and they’d no sooner reached the door than it opened. The person manning it, obviously human, since he stepped into the sunlight to challenge their entry.

“Let us pass,” Travis told the man. “This is Mrs. Thornton.”

“But…”

“It’s ok,” Buffy interjected. “It was foolish on my part to try and come here.”

“Nonsense,” he told her. “They wouldn’t dare refuse you entrance.” He pinned the man with a look. “Or would you like to explain to Lord Thornton why you turned his wife away.”

The doorman backed out of the way, and Buffy stepped inside – her slayer senses tingling as she felt the presence of several vampires roaming throughout the building.

“Would you like me to stay, m’lady?” Travis asked.

“No…return for me in an hour’s time.”

“As you wish.”

The door closed behind her and she turned to the man that had let her in.

“Who oversees the dungeons?”

“D-Dungeons?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, dungeons. Cages. Whatever you call them. Where are the humans that were brought here earlier?”

“I-I-I don’t know—”

“Well, find me someone that does. And be quick about it. I don’t have a lot of time,” she snapped.

The man rushed off, eager to find one of the vampires that helped oversee the gentlemen’s club, so that he could get back to his post and wash his hands of the human female that just happened to be mated to an Aurelius master vampire. Far better for someone else to be responsible for the girl. A few minutes later, he found Mr. Laitner, one of the minions that “worked” in the club.

“Uh…excuse me, Mr. Laitner. Umm…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Mrs. Thornton is here and wanting to see the dungeons?”

“Here? As in inside?”

“Yes, sir. Her man dropped her off at the back entrance.”

“She’s alone?” His voice had risen to an unnaturally high pitch.

“Yes, sir. You can see my dilemma. Came for you straight away, I did.”

The two wended their way through the tables of the deserted building. It still being well before noon, the establishment was currently closed.

“Mrs. Thornton! I must say it’s quite an honor, if somewhat highly irregular to see you grace our humble establishment,” Mr. Laitner greeted the lady. “That’ll be all, Jacob. You can return to your duties,” he told the other man.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Laitner. Good day, m’lady.” He affected an awkward bow and was off in a hurry, grateful to have passed the responsibility of the woman onto someone else.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Thornton?” the vampire asked once the two of them were alone.

“I want you to take me to the dungeons…”

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Look,” she interrupted. “I don’t have time to mince words with you. I want to see the bastards that dusted my chaperone….NOW!”

The minion retreated a few steps as she punctuated her words by invading his personal space, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“I don’t think—”

“I don’t care what you think. I want to see them.”

Buffy watched as he seemed to debate with himself before he finally turned and motioned her to follow him down the hallway. “Follow me.”

At the end of the hallway, he opened a door and entered what appeared to Buffy to be some type of wine cellar. She watched as he stopped before one of the racks and pulled it away from the wall to reveal a hidden passage. Moments later, they were descending the staircase that eventually opened up into a wide circular area that had cages and various sorts of other torture devices scattered about the room.

Her arrival got the immediate attention of the four humans – the only occupants besides the lone guard that sat at a table in a darkened corner. As the vampire that led her below went to speak with the other, Buffy neared the cell that held the humans.

She didn’t stop until she’d reached the bars separating them.

Buffy wasn’t sure what to expect when she finally got a good look at them. A thought ran through her mind that they looked like criminals. Not so much the clothes, although they were pretty haggard as well. No…it was their eyes. How they leered at her. And she knew that if it weren’t for the bars separating them, she’d have cause to worry about her safety.

“Aren’t you a tasty morsel?” one of them, probably the ringleader, quipped as he drew near. “A lady come t’ get ‘er kicks with a real man? Well, come on then. Open up an’ give us a taste.”

His words seemed to incite the others and the foursome talked over each other as they delighted in telling her in vivid, graphic detail everything they’d do to her once they had her in hand.

“Mighty big words for someone who’s about to die,” Buffy commented casually.

“Bitch,” one of them ground out. “Jus’ wait’ll I get free. Willy’ll make you pay for sassin’ me.”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and gifted them all with a bored expression.

“Oh, I really don’t think so.”

An arm shot out between the bars as she sneered at the one that had spoken, and Buffy gasped as a hand closed around her throat. She felt the vampires race to her side, but she didn’t pay either of them any mind. Her concentration was completely on the leader – the one with his hand trying to strangle the breath right out of her. One hand grasped his wrist as the other gripped the bar in front of her to keep him from bringing her any closer.

She had to hand it to him; he was strong.

But she was mad, and his puny efforts to subdue her were no match against the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Bet this is what you did to my chaperone, wasn’t it?” she gasped out as her fingers constricted about his wrist.

She watched his eyes flare with recognition and it just increased her rage. She fed on it. Allowed it to consume her until her whole plane of existence narrowed to just him and her. Her grip tightened even more and she smiled as she saw him cringe in pain. Her smile growing wider still as she watched him try to break her hold on him with his other hand.

When he couldn’t, his eyes widened in dawning horror.

“You’re one of them! A monster!” he gasped, fingers opening reflexively as he tried to get away from her.

She released her hold on his arm and watched as he scrambled to the back wall in an attempt to get as far away from her as possible. Buffy laughed, although it came out more like a hoarse cough.

“Monster? Monster?! You rape and pillage and steal. Not to mention kill an unarmed woman for no more than a few pounds…and you call me the monster? I’m not…we’re not… the monsters here. She was my friend, damn you! And you killed her!”

She was crying now, her voice all but gone.

“You all deserve everything that’s coming to you,” she whispered.

Then she turned and walked away.

~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Laitner was silent as he led the human upstairs, unsure exactly what he could do to get her to stop crying – he had no experience, whatsoever, dealing with weeping females.

“Is there something I could get you, m’lady,” he asked once he’d shown her to a couch on the main level. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and leaned down to offer it to her, smiling when she took it without question.

“Home,” Buffy managed to croak out.

“Jacob!” the minion bellowed out as he stood.

Moments later, the human appeared.

“Yes, Mr. Laitner?”

“Lady Thornton would like to go home now.”

“Yes, sir. But…well, her coach hasn’t returned yet. It’s only been thirty minutes.”

“Then find her another one!”

“Yes, sir! Of course…”

Jacob darted out the back door, having no idea where to go to see about obtaining another hack. Luck was with him, however, as he’d no sooner turned the corner and seen the driver that had dropped the lady off sitting atop the carriage she’d arrived in.

“Lady Thornton is ready to go home now,” Jacob called out and turned to run back inside the club to let the vampire know.

Travis guided the carriage around the corner and stopped it before the door. He quickly hopped down from his perch to see his mistress inside. His eyes widened in shock as he got a good look at her. She’d obviously been crying, was still crying, in fact. And the bruises around her neck…

“What the bloody hell happened?” Decorum was forgotten in the face of this outrage.

Buffy shook her head no. She didn’t want to get into this here. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. Feel Spike’s arms wrap around her and hold her tight.

tbc...